"bravo, bravo, bravo...you women are truly an inspiration. much love" Cori Brewster
"It was a great event. So good to hear both you and Katrina tell your stories about the development of your books." Anne Reid
"Congratulations on a very successful evening…..it was FABULOUS!! All three of you made significant and diverse contributions, leaving me wanting to read more by all! A very creative literary trio!! In addition to that you folks really inspired me to write more often." Bev Rowley
"It was such a heartfelt and inspiring evening! Can’t wait to read your book." Jess Mc Nally
LIt’s been a long winter. It came early November with short overcast days. The snow and frigid temperatures that made me wonder what I was doing in Kimberley. Why hadn’t I flown south with the other snow birds?
I sit in the rocking chair, snuggling my 19 month old grand-daughter.
“Book,” she says. I read her “Love you forever” by Robert Munsch, tears in my eyes by the end.
“More,” she says.
After another Dr. Seuss book, I ask her, “Do you want a pancake?” She nods her tiny head and her crystal blue eyes sparkle.
She helps me beat the egg, add the flour and pour the mixture onto the pan. I squeeze lemon juice, dribble on honey then watch her gobble it up.
Last fall, it was a no brainer when my daughter said she was going back to work and her partner a ski racing coach heading to Panorama five days a week. Both my husband and I jumped at the opportunity to look after her. When she arrived two months early, my friend said, “She couldn’t wait to be here.” She like all babies, was a miracle and needed to be nurtured and treasured.
Of course there were days in December when I wondered why I had disrupted my life. The previous year I had edited not only my life but my memoir throwing out worn out cloths and words. I had just published my memoir, "Circling the Edge" and it needed promotion.
Now it is the spring equinox, the snow is melting and I feel the soft earth under my feet. I have one month left with her. How I will miss her laugh and lust for life.
At the toddler tailgate party the other day, I chatted with the moms and dads of the toddlers who hugged one another a bit too tightly, splashed and ate the melting snow.
A mom came up to me “I finished your book. I absolutely loved it.” I hugged her.
I had thought my memoir would appeal to women of my age. I wrote it to honor women and mothers who give so much of themselves, who share their vulnerabilities with each other and honor their deep emotions.
How grateful I am for this unique opportunity to get to know my granddaughter and have my memoir appreciated. I am in the right place at the right time.
I surround myself with strong women, women who have broken the chains of their oppressive pasts, their insecurities and their toxic culture.
Women who embrace their remarkable bodies that come in all shapes and sizes; who reject the demand that only bodies shaped like barbie dolls are valued; who stretch, breathe deeply, and lovingly respect the temples their bodies are.
Women who delve into the darkness of their shadows, the emotional pustules that suppurate in their minds stealing their power, their strength and their dreams; who confront the painful wounds that keep them stuck as if a steel umbilical cord is tied to their pasts.
As we women cry, rage, the dragons and monsters within transform into friendly helpers, each with rich gifts, ready to support us at every turn on the bumpy road ahead.
Women around the globe seek to connect to their inner light and out of the ashes of patriarchy delicate shoots emerge with strong roots that delve deep into the recesses of mother earth. This new growth withstands the storms and the brutish footsteps trying to eliminate the light. These resilient women serve as beacons for others lost in the toxicity of victimhood.